


five feet apart

by anicula



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: (also a bit crack-y), M/M, something something I follow rothsteins too closely for my own comfort, this is a very rough draft of an intro but I quit writing on tungle so here we R
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 20:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15420819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anicula/pseuds/anicula
Summary: Two bros, chilling in the hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not gay





	five feet apart

Standing in the cavernous reception hall of a 19th century revival building was not how Max had thought he’d be spending his Friday afternoon at the start of the week. The disapproving lady behind the desk with her tiny old lady frown and her overly large reading glasses was also not someone he’d thought he’d ever have to see, let alone talk to and plead with. But to no avail, her little pursed lips stayed pursed and she primly reminded him of the late hour and how perhaps he should try again next week. It was difficult not to just stay there and sulk. But sulking would not bring him the aid he would need. 

And so, he took the mountain of paper work and pamphlets she shoved at him and let her slam the door behind him. 

His first instinct, upon leaving, was to call his mother and cry. Or wail. Very loudly with some possible fist beating against the wall kind of nonsense he occasionally allowed himself to have. But it was the business district and everyone walking around was business-y from the tops of their perfectly gelled down hair to the tips of their just shined by some poor unfortunate child working at a street corner leather loafers. So he held it in. Because he didn’t believe in crying in front of people he hated. Well, he didn’t hate them, he just hated the idea of them. Finance bros. He pulled a face. Let himself have a two second internal cry. Looked up the closest coffee shop so he could maybe actually cry there and then look through the probably unhelpful stack of paper the lady had given him.

Walking to the nearest coffee shop provided no distraction besides the kind of detached nothingness he felt occasionally, more often now that life provided the kind of stress he wanted to be constantly removed from. The friendly barista made him a little foam cat in his latte. He could barely scrounge up the strength to stretch his face into something resembling a smile. Based on the faltering of her smile, he had to deduce that perhaps he had not succeeded. 

No matter. He had more pressing issues to attend, namely, reading pages of words when his eyes wanted to retire and move to Florida. Permanently.

He had a pounding migraine by the time he got to the bottom of the stack, where the forms for school loans provided by their institution had been placed. He scanned through it.  _If you have dependents under 18 years of age_.  _Dependents over the age of 18_.  _Spouses_. He rolled his neck to get out the kinks.  _If you are over 24 years of age_. He looked up to stop his eyes from becoming blurry due to tear duct complications. Never had 23 felt simultaneously so immensely old and so uselessly young. 

His phone buzzed. A sharp rattle of his coffee cup to remind him that yes he was in public and no he probably still shouldn’t cry yet. He unlocked it to see a stream of texts from his roommate.

_grocery store_

_you want anything_

_im getting cheese_

_i feel sad_

_you got your lactose pills?_

_update also getting ice cream please bring back wine_

_also also getting beans rn may i please make a request for chili tonight i would be very grrateful_

Max cleared his throat, the dead air that had been stuck swallowed down. Gio as always, had opted to use a thousand and one messages when one would have sufficed. 

_i can make chili_

He paused with his thumbs over the keyboard, struck by a sudden thought.

_can you marry me_

The three little dots moving up and down on the screen were very judgmental for three inanimate two dimensional objects of no actual physical substance. The dots paused and then disappeared altogether. Max gnawed at his bottom lip. Made another split second decision. 

_I just got back from my school and they said they cannot give me any aid except for unsubsidised loans unless I have a child, get married, or turn 24, so I have to get married_

The three dots resolved themselves into a real text. 

_Yeah ok I'll marry you I need a better fafsa application too_

Max almost jumped out of his seat. As it was, his knee slammed into the underside of the table hard enough the spoon fell off his saucer and maybe gave him a bruise the size of his knee. He couldn’t focus on that though. His thumbs tried their best to dance dance revolution their way to faster replies. 

_Wait seriously  
Would you really do it_

He opened up his laptop as the three dots once again assailed his eyes, drumming his fingers against the table relentlessly, his world suddenly full of possibilities now that his awful spur of the moment last straw word vomit turned into a weird catch-me-if-you-can-ocean’s-8-about-to-lie-to-the-very-institution-he-was-seeking-validation-from kind of con. He looked things up on google and switched between the student loans tab of his school’s website and different tabs on marriage licenses and what he needed to do to be married in between sending more texts Gio’s way.

His heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, but his migraine was magically gone. He felt clear headed and purposeful for the first time in days and he could’ve swore that he had grown an inch from how straight his back was. It was like all of a sudden he had the personality of the Finance Bros strutting past the cafe’s windows. He had ambition again. Ambition and a plan.

_we’re still on for chili though right?_

Max grinned at his phone.

_yes_

**Author's Note:**

> i'm writing tell me lies two words at a time bc my brain loves side quests


End file.
